Mr Moriarty
by xXSherlockianGirlXx
Summary: Elizabeth doesn't have a good life, in fact she barely has anything, but when her slutty mother gets a new boyfriend who treats her like an actual human being, she thinks differently on life. Only thing is that the man is a maniac and she's his new game... May contain acts of paedophilia.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is the first chapter to my edit, and like I said I am not comfortable with the length, but this will have to do. It mainly sounds more of an introduction as nothing really happens, I am describing the life of my character and then introducing Moriarty near the end. Feedback is always helpful and thank you for following :)**

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Chapter One

Elizabeth immoderately despises her life. She is almost sixteen and already also quite unfortunately she wants to pass away, to say farewell to the world and to her depressing, appalling, dismal life; not caring if anyone shall miss her but is curious to whether anyone actually loved her. She, for an actual superb guess, doubts this highly.

Life is leisurely but robustly crushing her, the more she tries to squirm free, the heavier life gets until she can not breathe. She tries to breathe, but no air flows into her lungs, it's killing her. _Life is killing her_ and it won't stop until its job is complete which she thinks with great ambitiousness will be hopefully soon.

Elizabeth lives in a small apartment with her abusive mother, Emily. Daily she will suffer from her wretched mouth and by her hard hands, but not only Emily's hands are part of the physical abuse - no, Elizabeth will have teeth marks on her skinny body bitten deep into her flesh, her stomach will be kicked until black. Her back will be sore and red from where she is whipped by telephone wires and the whole of her body will have scars, freshly cut where smashed bottles and even knives dig mercilessly into her defenceless body. Elizabeth will not talk, eat or sometimes move and sleep through the fear of pain.

Elizabeth does not have a father, she has never met him and doesn't intend to see as he couldn't have been any better than her mother. Emily is sadly to say, a pole dancer and is quite well known to dangerous criminals as she _hangs_ around in peculiar and most certainly disgusting nightclubs. Elizabeth has to suffer night after night listening to an unknown male voice and her mothers as both adults accompany each other in a night of pure sin, hearing them both moan in bliss as they orgasm is without any doubt the worst thing for a child to hear. It is highly unlikely that Elizabeth shall hear the same man's voice in the apartment again.

Elizabeth has before met some of the various men that enter her home then leave it before midnight. Some of the men have taken an odd interest in her by wanting to talk to her and have even (without thinking about the consequences) touched her in a most disturbing manner, by rubbing her thighs in a harassing way, getting rather too excited, forcing Elizabeth to either leave the apartment or lock herself in her bedroom and wait until her mother has dealt with the man. She does not appreciate being touched by strange and most likely diseased men who are only in the apartment for one thing.

It is quite common for men to take an interest in her as Elizabeth, despite her worn clothes is a very pretty girl. Her body may have scars torn into it and she may be rather skinny, but she has good bone structure in her face in which one may describe as _desirable_.

There was a time when one man called Mr. Bentley often visited the flat over a numerous amount of weeks. For the first week he showed attention and care for Elizabeth, he was for a very short amount of time a father figure to her until he tried to force himself upon her causing Elizabeth to almost lose her virginity to a paedophile who was willing to rape her. At the time, she was only twelve years of age and barely understood the concept of sexual activities.

It was from that moment on she locks herself away or leaves her home while the men visit as it is the safest thing to do because she does not want to be raped by a stranger for obvious reasons. Elizabeth wonders if she will be able to live any longer knowing someone took advantage of her vulnerable state for their own sick pleasures, though it crosses her mind that her mother will _let_ them just to spite her. This may be a sick statement, but it is undoubtedly and is, unfortunately, the shameful truth.

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Elizabeth wakes from a night of uneasy resting, as she rises from her worn bed she rubs the ache in her back which has some discomfort, she groans in annoyance and then curses under her breath as she gathers some clothes to wear. She leisurely enters the living room, rubbing her heavy-lidded eyes made by the lack of sleep. She stops short and in surprise and spontaneously steps backwards towards her bedroom door, her hand traveling towards the knob.

A man is sitting on the sofa, a mug of coffee is in his hand as his head turns to look at her then smile in a calm, affectionate way before his mouth opens to speak.

"Morning," he starts the same kind smile still upon his face that relaxes Elizabeth a little too much. He has a very soft, Irish accent which Elizabeth sort of admires, she has never met an Irish man before. Elizabeth is speechless for a while before she forces her lips to stretch into a welcoming smile, but she does not yet take a seat.

"Hello," she replies hoarse voice, she tries clearing her throat to sound more gentle and pleasant but it does not work. She looks at him for a good long while examining his features thoroughly before she guesses his personality. His hair is combed back rather gentlemen like, she can smell the handsome smelling gel in his hair as she pushes her back from the door and steps towards him.

He has a messy chin, not messy as it dirty or ugly, but more of unshaven which suited him quite well. She has never seen the likes of a man like this ever step into her apartment before, but despite his kind face she keeps her distance and enters the kitchen.

"This is Mr. Moriarty, Lizzy," her mother's voice calls as Emily steps from her bedroom door dressed only in a gown. Elizabeth straightens her back at the sound of her voice being called by that old _hag_. "Isn't he wonderful?" She asks in a school girl manner, flirting with him carefully and not to scare him off. _Her face alone will do that._ Elizabeth jokes, sniggering as she handles the kettle, pouring the boiling water almost over her hand. "What you laughing at?" Her mother snaps in a menacing way that causes Elizabeth to hold her breath.

"Well, I actually must be going," Mr. Moriarty says, putting the full cup of coffee on the floor and slapping his thighs. "I shall call in some time," he tells them as he opens the door half exiting the apartment, half standing in it. "Bye," he looks at Emily then stares for a good hard couple of seconds at Elizabeth, smiling wide and almost lovingly before he shuts the door behind him. Elizabeth stands quietly in the kitchen gazing at the door while the steaming drink sits in her hand comfortably.

"Who was he?" She asks her mother who is now sitting where the man had sat and is overlooking her false nails.

"Jim. He's moved into the apartment a few doors down. Lovely isn't he?" She says in a dreamy way that makes Elizabeth rolls her eyes, she does not answer with words but instead makes a noise from within her mouth that means "yes" she then concentrates on drinking the tea she has in her hand.

Elizabeth can not help but think about the man's smile and voice, both of them features seemed _alluring_ in some sort of way that attracts her to him. Elizabeth shakes the strange and foreign feeling out of her body and makes her way back to her bedroom.

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The week seems to go quicker than it usually does and with less abuse from Emily, who has been busy and out of the apartment continuously over the past few days. Elizabeth does not know where she goes, only that she stays out quite late and arrives home in an unusual good mood. She does not arrive home smelling of drink and cigarettes either so she obviously isn't "working" late.

Elizabeth eventually realises what has been happening during the week when she wakes one Saturday morning making herself a cup of tea when she recognizes the man who visited a few days ago exiting her mother's bedroom, wearing only his trousers.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," he wishes her, reaching up to pull out a mug from the cupboard then places a strong tea bag in the cup. "Did you have a good night's sleep?" He asks, Elizabeth is surprised by the question, she has never been asked an affectionate question before.

"Um," she stutters at first. "Yes, yes I - uh - slept pleasantly, thank you." She responds very quietly in a shy manner, but with a small smile on her face.

"Good," he replies taking a quick sip from the mug of hot tea. Elizabeth watches him carefully, almost like she is deducting him, looking at him in several places before she comes to the conclusion that he is perfectly safe, but she is still wary of him. Only very few words have passed their lips in conversation, so she has a perfectly good reason to be unsure of the stranger. "You like art?" He asks.

"Very." She responds with a short answer, turning her head away from him becoming bored instantaneously unlike any other time when art was involved.

"You look really good," he compliments her, Elizabeth's eyes flash to him, her heart jumps, strangely enough. It felt more like an insult in her private life rather than a compliment, she keeps her art secret and prefers if no one knew about it.

"What?" She answers with perturbed confusion. "How -"

"No need to be offended," he assures her. "I meant it as a compliment," he informs Elizabeth with an admiring smile shooting in her direction. "Perhaps you'll let me take you to the Art Museum sometime?"

"Uh -" Elizabeth hesitates and becomes sweaty with concern. She gulps down her now cool tea and places the mug in the sink before responding to his question. "I'll love to go to the museum one day." He smiles at her and takes another sip from the cup, Elizabeth feels a sudden reason to smile back as the tense feeling slowly drifts away.

He places the empty mug on the side and leaves Elizabeth to see her mother who is still away in her bedroom. _Most likely naked_ Elizabeth remarks though her lips stay closed and straight, the smile has now faded from her face.

She stays profoundly quiet for a few minutes, her stare stuck on the mug Mr. Moriarty was holding. She can vision his lips on the same point where they drank from, it is almost like he was wearing lipstick and the outline including the creases in his lips are painted on the mug. _He's good-looking, isn't he?_ She asks herself. Elizabeth has startled herself saying those words, she has never met a man who she thinks is _attractive_, especially one that is _dating_ her mother.

Perhaps it's the unshaven beard or the messy, overgrown hair. Or, and this seems most likely, it's the fact that he smiles at her, the fact that he hasn't sworn or hit her yet. Elizabeth rubs her bruised ribs from when her mother threw a shoe at her and goes to sit down on the sofa. She sits in her usual awkward position, her back so straight it hurts her spine and her hand resting in her lap with her eyes focused on the blank television where her reflection stares back at her.

A couple of laughs come from her mother's room, she twists her neck around to look at the door which is open slightly. She can see a shadow of a body on the wall, but nothing else. Elizabeth does not look away though, she waiting for a glimpse of _something_ that she doesn't know, she can not figure out what she wants to see in the room only that she'll know if she saw it.

For a few more minutes she stares until the laughter dies down and the man comes out, he looks at Elizabeth with one long glance then continues to the door grabbing his jacket from the sofa.

"Bye," he says, his mouth curled with his beautiful white teeth showing. He catches her eyes for a second and looks at them before Elizabeth begins to fidget and the stare breaks as his head moves to the left a little.

"Goodbye, Mr. Moriarty," Elizabeth replies and as he turns to shut the door behind him, stepping out of the apartment the strange feeling Elizabeth has, goes.

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**Thanks for reading :) xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ugh! Sorry for the late update, I've been doing my best to write as much as I can, but I'm really not "up" with this story, I have no idea why, but I'm going to try and keep going as the next chapter should be interesting if I actually put my brain to work, it's derelict up here! I don't know why but I feel like this isn't going to last, and I hate myself for it! If I happen to not update for months on end you'll know why as I've got loads of other fanfictions that I've planned that are more interesting.**

**But still I'm not going to give up! I'll try my best, feedback also inspires me, because personally I think I'm a terrible writer (and yes I am my worst critic!) God I hate how I come to a sticky place in my writing. Ugh. Anyway, enjoy (if you can!) ;) :) xxx**

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Chapter Two

Elizabeth's second week with the man, or Mr. Moriarty as she is ordered to call him, told to her by her mother that she _must _call him that although the man didn't mind if she called him Jim, but she had grown rather used to calling _Mr. Moriarty_, she feels comfortable when saying it unlike when other men are in her home.

She does not know everything about Jim Moriarty yet, she has only found out very few facts about him, facts that do not seem peculiar or cautionary in any way she recognises. He comes across as a pleasant man who takes mild interest in the world of art (though he knows enough to begin a conversation) and a great deal in games that involve competition and some thinking, games like chess, diplomacy etcetera.

He is not a heavy drinker either, there has been only one occasion where Elizabeth has seen him drink a glass of wine before returning to his usual glass of water or a cordial cup of tea, which he seems to enjoy quite a lot.

He, out of all the men that has slept in the apartment, is the nicest of them all with matching facial looks. Though to Elizabeth his most exquisite feature (if she can go so far to say) is his gentle voice. His amiable voice seems to relax her whenever she is in the same room with him, it seems to Elizabeth (and not to mention her mother, though the point will stay intact even if the man happens to be psychopath) that this particular man can and will never do any harm to another person, but even so Elizabeth can not just entrust in a stranger otherwise it'll be ludicrous, and she knows it.

_"Checkmate." _Elizabeth eyes observe the board, her straight lips curl into an amused smile. She sees her King as plain as the night cornered by his Queen and Rook. She laughs merrily and raises her eyes to see him smiling showing every tooth in his mouth that glint beneath the light.

He reaches for his mug of tea, pressing the cup to his lips and sips the delightful drink which slithers down his throat like a drain. She watches him replace the mug before her eyes lift to watch his face again. "Nice try, Bee," he begins standing up out of his chair, Elizabeth grows agitated by the _nickname _he has given her and shifts awkwardly where she sits. "But not good enough, maybe another game tomorrow?" He adds and pats her shoulder as she nods.

Elizabeth has only played chess a few times and that was at the library ten minuets away. She did not hope to beat him, but she did hope to learn from him, she liked the competitive game known as Chess and enjoyed playing it, especially with someone else who took enthusiasm in the game.

The hand leaves her shoulder after giving it a soft squeeze and the feeling stays there for a few seconds as though the hand is still on her shoulder, but the feeling goes as fast as it came and her attention is engrossed by her mother.

"You staying over tonight?" She hears her mother say, Elizabeth finally stands and goes to make herself something to eat. The thing she has noticed since Mr. Moriarty began a relationship with her mother is that she has put on weight. She can tell quiet easily as she's gone up in a cup size and her jeans fit properly (this meaning she no longer has to wear a belt).

The only downside to their relationship is that her mother has quit her "job" and now Elizabeth stays out of the apartment for longer, usually she walks around the streets or goes to sit under the bridge and reminisce in her thoughts.

"No, not tonight. I'd prefer to sleep in my apartment." He replies quite sternly though her mother ignores the tone of his voice.

"Shame I thought we could..." she makes a type of gesture with her head that points to her bedroom, he looks but his statement stays the same. Elizabeth frowns and then smiles, her eyes flicker towards him with a thought swimming around in her head that is a positive thought. She likes this man _a lot _or so she thinks for the time being.

More slow and dismal days pass and Mr. Moriarty hasn't made an entrance in her apartment since the day he left with the stern attitude he had told her mother with. Elizabeth does not care for getting close to her mothers _boyfriends_, they all soon see for what she is - a Whore. And nothing better. Then they leave after taking what they want and she never see's them again, but this one is quite different.

Elizabeth is exiting the building early Thursday morning when she manages to physically bump into him. She is not concentrating when she searches her pair of black jeans for the screwed up ten pound note and accidentally collides with him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She reacts quickly, catching body before it falls and rubbing her shoulder softly.

"No, no," he replies. "It was my fault, Bee." Elizabeth eyes flash to his, her stare holds on his face for more than a moment. And again she does not feel comfortable someone giving her a nickname such as "Bee" but she manages to shake the vexatious feeling off and stretch a smile on her face, stretch being the appropriate word as the smile is in no sense convincing.

She proceeds with her plans she has made for the day and tries walking past him, only his hand stops her and catches her arm. He doesn't hurt her but the unexpected grasp manages to jolt her body and cause the uncomfortable feeling to grow again. "Where are you going to?" He asks, Elizabeth pulls her arm away from him gradually and places by her waist before answering.

"I-uh- was head- ing for town," she stammers out through half closed lips and an inactive tongue.

"Well how about I take you there?" Elizabeth looks at him curiously. "I was only offering." He states at the sight of her expression. Elizabeth ponders for a second.

"Well - um - if you're sure, I supp-ose you-"

"Great!" He says far too excitedly than she would've expected. He seems to be avoiding something she is not sure off. "And while we're here I'll buy you something to eat, what about that?" His arm voluntary wraps around her shoulder in a _possible _sign of affection. Elizabeth nods to answer his question and looks at the corner of her eye to watch his hand.

Elizabeth stays silent while in his car, she is quite uncomfortable being in a strangers car and regrets agreeing with him and at the same times is a little suspicious of the man. He barely knows her and yet he wants the take her to town. _For what reason? And why is he so nice towards a girl he's never met? And why is he so comfortable around me? _All these questions she wants to ask stay in her mind to be unanswered for the time being.

Town isn't an awfully long drive, it's around quarter of an hour without the traffic and around twenty five minuets with the traffic. The time she spends in town is also not very long, she looks in the windows of expensive shops, obsesses over models slapped on advertisements and buys nothing.

Though the one thing she doesn't expect is to be physically dragged into a local art gallery and held like a walking stick. Jim Moriarty does not let go of her, instead his grip becomes more firm and his arm tugs her body closer. She swallows an uncomfortable lumps that grows instantly in her throat.

The gallery is empty, not a living soul can be heard breathing or moving, not even the person at the front desk can be heard as she types swiftly away on the computer. He pulls her around a corner and up to a secluded area in the gallery, dust is sprayed over the piece of work on the wall telling her that the art work she is now admiring is not as trendy as the other work in the gallery.

"I thought you'd like it." He tells her eagerly gazing at her facial expression's turning from obvious uneasiness to extol. But then she fixates on his voice, it is just so soft! Soothingly gentle as it hits the side of her face like a gentle breeze and although she is unsure of this man for particular reasons Elizabeth is amazingly nonchalant. It is uncommonly amiable. She smiles and the hand now loosens.

"It's beautiful," Elizabeth says flashing a quick smile to him and appreciating the work of art, pulling her arm silently. He stands closer to her, brushing her arm with his own. She feels his black hairs rub against her arm that tickles her, she brings her left hand to scratch the area as he nudges closer. Her breathing catches and the sweat breaks from the top of her forehead noticing the step closer.

He's too close to her now to be considered polite and the sweet aroma of Mocha brushes off him and enters her nostrils to deliver her into a world of appealing smells. Her eyes close as she takes yet another deep breath of the alluring smell, her lips widening into a delightful smile with the desire for her lips just to taste the admirable drink. Then her mind wonders back to reality and her smile dissipates.

...

They didn't stay in town longer, Elizabeth insisted on going home as she "had stomach pains" though she now wishes, in the position that she is in, that she stayed out longer. There is something very peculiar about Moriarty that her mind can not seem to find out, he looks normal in appearance, he sounds normal, talks like a normal person, but there is _something _about him that is different...

Something that is plainly obvious, _but hidden well._

Elizabeth noticed something about him from the instant they entered the building, something different about his personality, it is not quite what she is looking for in him as this was made to be noticeable. He did it on purpose.

They had reached Elizabeth's apartment, she knocked hastily on the door, but no one answered and the door was locked. It was quite unusual for her mother to lock the apartment door, so Elizabeth thought this odd. She stated to Jim that she would wait outside the building to see if her mother would return home in the next twenty minuets, otherwise, despite how much she loathed the blood in her mothers veins, would go out looking for her.

But then a unusual outlandish change came over the man who stopped her from doing so.

"Oh, no, no, no. I don't think you will." It wasn't exactly the words that made her suspicious of him and maybe even startled, but the way he said them. It wasn't exactly normal. A change came over his tone of voice that made him sound that of a psychopath, it was as though he had made some devious plan and was over thinking it while he watched her.

And now she sits in his apartment, regretting her earlier decisions that were decided by anxiety. However Elizabeth does admit the flat is decorated handsomely from the wallpaper to the cabinets. A lingering scent on tea is in the room like an air freshener that has been sprayed for her arrival while the settee has the smell of coffee absorbed into it's cushions. She smiles pleasantly, her sofa smells like cheap wine.

Moriarty returns with two boiling mugs cupped in his hand so he doesn't spill the contents and places both on mats that lay neatly on the coffee table before her feet. Her stare does not leave the mug, or mainly the creamy brown liquid inside. Elizabeth is searching for any evidence that may be of a type of drug. _Just because he appears smart and may be dating my mum, doesn't give him a reason not to - uh, you know... But she can not tell and now she is growing awkward, she doesn't want to seem rude, but nor does she want to be drugged either!_

She reaches for the hot mug of steaming tea and places her lips to it, the smell knocks her senses over and she takes a gulp of the delicious drink not thinking where one sip may lead her. She waits for a moment before continuing, there is no sign of drowsiness or any unusual feeling. She continues drinking it, the hot drink warming her stomach up and now calming her senses.

And for the whole time he watches her. His eyes do not move, but fix on Elizabeth then move to see the mug.

And he smiles.

He raises from his seat, picks up the empty mug and leaves it in the kitchen, along his half full one then he returns almost instantly and pays heed to Elizabeth focusing all his attention on her. He listens to her mumbling and her slurred words and responds to her like an ordinary person would, but most importantly he concentrates on the slurred words or words that are spoken slower. Then he watches her actions.

Elizabeth's eyes begin to close her body begins to fidget, he can her hand claw at the settee and un-stick her back from it too. Her forehead begins to sweat and her face grows red like she has a high temperature. And then she falls forward with a moan exiting her mouth before she hits the ground at an uncomfortable angle, her eyes shut tightly, fast asleep.

He stands, "Tut, tut, tut. Didn't mummy ever teach you not to drink a drink someone else has made you?" He asks her unconscious body sarcastically. "Obviously not!" He asserts with over confidence. "You're a silly girl, Bee, but I think, if you try hard enough that is, we can have some fun. In fact I'm sure of it, but it'll be out little secret, yes?" He asks her, smiling at the silence. "But I think we'll start when your awake, otherwise I'll be the only one having the fun! Sleep tight, my little honey bee!" And with that he steps over her body and leaves the apartment.

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**If I do make my third chapter interesting, like I mean *really* interesting, to the point where I'm going to explode, I'll carry on the story, however if I don't and I disappoint myself, I'm afraid I'm going to have to stop it, or at least take a break and edit my notes, or write something else for a while until I get back on track. I hope I don't have to do this, so lets pray for my worthless brain!**

**Thanks for reading! :) xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**(BOOM! I back after a while! So I've continued it and have found a plot that I'm comfortable with. Everything makes sense to me now and I'm happy! YESSSSS! Thank you to those who have stuck by the story even with me getting all confused and unhappy with it, and to new followers I hope you enjoy :) **

**Anyway sorry for the delay, I've been writing it for weeks and got fed up of checking it over after I completed the chapter, I just wanted to upload it, aha! Thank you again and enjoy! :) xxx)**

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Chapter Three

Elizabeth's breathing is steady for one so anxious. Her whole attention is attracted to, or fixed (to be more precise) into his abnormal eyes that are entirely crowded with malice and undoubtedly, pure horror. His unblinking eyes stare into her own, peering into her, pulling at the loose threads in her mind. It is almost like she can hear his thoughts. Hear him say things... _"I will destroy you. I will utterly destroy your pathetic being and make you watch as your mind is taunted by memories of your abominable past. You will watch your body burn and I'll be the one who puts the fire out just to watch it happen again. And when life has spat out your vile, useless body you will beg me and then, only then will I finally burn the whole of you."_

She does not move in fright of her own well being and, in addition sits uneasily in a peculiar position where her spine is curved inwards furthermore, her thighs ache from a constant forceful pushing that puts strain on her muscles. Her small feet are underneath the chair to evade brushing his leg, to escape touching him or more importantly _him _contacting with _her _body which clarify's why her thighs are being strained together.

Moriarty (who is constantly peering at her) stares at her with blank, impassive eyes that are fixed upon her face watching as her mental state twists grotesquely and creates a bitter look on her face. Her mouth gapes open in despair, lastly a frown exchanges the surprised look that was situated upon her face at her arrival.

Elizabeth's teeth immediately begin to gnaw in anguish at her bottom lip, peeling the skin away furthermore biting the flesh that afterwards weeps patches of blood. Her tongue runs over the raw feeling, tasting the harsh, bitter flavour of copper. Her lip winces as her hard brush of a tongue slides over the wet also sensitive cuts, the dry saliva flowing into the cuts in addition stinging the open flesh. Moreover she still continues to pick at it, pulling away the skin, afflicting minimal pain to herself until her bottom lip lies sore and, moist.

Following on from the moment she awoke only hours ago, danger crashed upon her like a strong tidal wave drowning her body in water. She had remembered everything about the afternoon before, or was it the day before? It may be a week ago by now, he may have kept her here for a week now. One whole week without a sight of sunshine or a smell of the evening breeze. If only she knew, but Elizabeth lacks the intelligence to know.

She makes such a laughable girl who not even herself can feel any pity about the situation that she is currently in. She ignored the consequences and drank the whole drink, every drop of tea ran down her throat and concluded in disappointment, lastly terror. Not the usual heart warming feeling she customarily got with tea.

She was not even awake for a second when suddenly, hands. They gripped and they groped finally leaving bruises on her small frame until their hands became firm upon her, dragging her away. Her mind was still not focused at the time therefore she saw nothing but the darkness also heard nothing apart from murmurs even more she is convinced they were talking inside her mind. They entered a room and the light hit her like beams from every direction, piercing her pupils next burning them until the light did not seem so blinding and by then her mind was fully awake. There was only one person in the room apart from herself and that was a man, dressed in grey suit, his sleek black hair combed back neatly and his face clean shaven.

She recognises this man without doubt.

However Elizabeth does not react, instead the girl remains still, her breathing durable and placid as she examines the room, her bony hands shaking next he summons her to sit, gesturing a hand to the chair opposite.

"I hope I haven't caused any _inconvenience _for you," he begins sharing a grin with her, undoubtedly she does not smile at his sick statement which is an attempt of a cruel joke instead her face twitches with what feels like anger. "I would hate to think that I ruined your plans for the weekend."

"What am-m I- uh doing her -e?" Elizabeth manages to breathe out, his eyebrows raise wickedly but his smile does not leave his face but widen consequently deforming his looks and creates the picture of a maniac with a wild glint in his eyes.

"Ooh, straight to the point, huh?" He inquires including a mocking tone in his voice. "You're here for a little game I'm going to play." Elizabeth eyes at him perplexed, but then worry comes over her all of a sudden, an icy chill runs down her spine and all the hairs on the back of neck stand to attention. "And if you do not play along," he continues. "I will kill you." The air went thin creating stifling atmosphere then secondly nothing but silence fills the room. Elizabeth's ears feels as though they have dug deep inside her head and the continuous echos of _"I will kill you." _ring inside her head like a church bell, _chiming_.

In addition she now sits extremely uncomfortably with her thighs forced together furthermore her hands begin to sweat rapidly and simultaneously travel along her legs in an attempt to wipe away the warm build up of sweat that clings itself to her palms. Elizabeth watches his face and sees the illustration of seriousness he shows on it. This man is not toying with her, he means to show his emotions. Elizabeth fails to swallow down a lump that grew instantly in her throat, her breathing is becoming more rapid next her chin is beginning to tremble a little finally she pushes her tongue against her front teeth feeling her forehead grow hot with anxiety.

"Why-y are you -"

"-Doing this?" He interrupts, throwing his head back and afterwards pushing out a horrid laugh that is most inhuman. "Why does everybody say that? Because I can! Isn't it obvious?!" He sighs, rubbing his eyes, "I can make you kill yourself if I wanted you to... simply because I can. See that's the power I have... While you're _nothing_. Nothing but a little girl who's lost in the outside world."

Elizabeth looks offended, but instead manages to shake off the insult before he notices however it does not work, his mouth widens once again into a horrid smile. In addition the look on her face turns to anguish and disgust. She is not a _little _girl and nor will he treat her like one or act as though she is one either, but she can not take the statement to heart. Her mouth opens to speak, but no words seem to leave her tongue and ever so casually she closes it and licks her dry lips moist. Elizabeth can not seem to figure out her emotions, she is angry, but afraid to show it or act on them, she can vision herself lashing out at him, hitting him until his face breaks into pieces finally until the very point her knuckles began to leak with blood, bruised and raw from the beating.

But she couldn't and she remains silent.

"Now," he continues. "Shall I carry on with the rules of the game?" He asks her blank expression and takes her sad eyes as a _yes_. "Now you already know that if you don't obey, you will die," he rises from his seat, Elizabeth flinched at the shrieking as the chair legs pushing against the floor. "But what is the game?" His hand brushes along her shoulder blade that automatically tries to shift it as the lightness of his fingers tickle her. Moriarty squeezes her shoulder blades now both hands upon her, his thumbs digging into a very sensitive spot near her neck in an attempt of a massage. "I don't want to hurt you, Bee," he kneels down to look at her, Elizabeth's face turns to his. "Do you believe that?"

Of course she doesn't but still her head nods automatically as she bites her bottom lip secondly tearing away the thin skin away from it with her front two teeth. A snigger leaves Moriarty's mouth as he observes her face including every detail on it, alert of the lie that she just told and aware of how nervous he is making her. "Do you want to know my little game we're going to play?" His hand slaps upon hers, rubbing her palm with his fingers and soaking his with her sweat, his finger tips becoming slick with sweat as he plays with her skin, pinching at her center with his dull fingernails. "Chess."

Elizabeth frowns, for a second she is slightly confused as she sees no chess board or pieces around the room, only them two and a table, chairs and few decorations scattered around the room. Her eyes dart around, searching for something to do with the game but nothing catches her eye and lastly her vision travels back to him.

"You're the King, Bee. And a King's role is not to get conquered by the other King. I'm that other King, Bee." An odd feeling overcomes her, a mixture of depression also intense anguish as the memories of playing chess with him slowly enter her mind. She never won. He smiles at her expression, "So are you ready to play the game?" Then his hand begins to run up her bare arm, his palms are soft as it touches her cold skin, goosebumps spread over where ever his hand touches. His fingers tickle her as he lightly touches her skin, repeating the movements on her wrist as he draws his hand downwards and eventually his thumb touches her sweaty palm. Her fingers twitch.

His face leans in closely towards her his nose touching her hard cheekbone, his lips brushing her flushed cheeks and his breath hitting her skin like a heavy weapon. She can feel even more hear every breath like a thunder storm, each breath louder than the other touching her skin more violently. He is so close to her now that she can hear his heartbeat inadvertently grow faster, the beats sounding louder with each thump or perhaps this is intentional? Furthermore the thick tension between them both is creating excitement in him, she is almost certain it is ... _Thump, thump, thump _in fact she is quite sure it is _thump, thump, thump_. Barely a second between each beat before she hears his heart thud again.

_"Check." _Such a soft whisper spits at her like venom, all the cruelty in a river of poison as it travels to her ear drum and sends a signal of understanding to her brain. His hand is now clenched within her own, she can feel his knuckles like stones rub against her pale veins that pulsate. Moriarty's fist releases and something drops into her hand, heavy also smooth as fine wood chiseled into a delicate shape. Her thumb nail traces the deep cuts it has made without doubt from previous uses.

Moriarty rises from his kneeling position and stands straight, his hands deep within in his pockets. "I've got to go, but I can assure you I will see you later," he goes to kiss her cheek but of course Elizabeth pulls her face away. "Oh don't be like that, Bee. Now be a good girl and give daddy a kiss." Disgust traces her face while her eyes reflect distress, tears can be seen to build up and the light catches them making them more obvious to him. Elizabeth see's from the corner of her eyes his lips pout and the moist skin beckon for her as they edge ever closer to her face then touch her red cheek before she can move it. The kiss is hard and wet and sucks at her flesh as he let's go. A smirk can be seen on his face, "I shall get you next time," he jokes with a smile. "But for now that will have to do, sleep well my little honey bee. Rest your weary head."

Elizabeth frowns but before she can say anything, or do anything a needle as sharp as a knife forcefully rips the skin on her neck. Her body jolts and convulsions begin to act on her as the drug immobilizes Elizabeth. Her frame falls back against the chair, her total body relaxed but confused. Her fixed fist unrolls it's self and the item falls from her palm and hits the floor with a crack. Elizabeth tries to move but her legs and arms are useless and her body falls out of her chair and for a moment she feels as though she is falls through thin air before her head hits the floor. She groans as the strange feeling overcomes her mind, the walls begin to move and the ceiling is crumbling and above her face he stands.

"Ssh." He tells her, but before she can hit him with her heavy arm he is already out of the room and all she can see now is the darkness surrounding her and the wooden object which she now recognises to be a Pawn.

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**(Thank you again for sticking by it, you probably have no idea how much it actually means to me :) xxx)**


	4. Chapter 4

**(Hello! I'm very sorry if I haven't updated in ages, my illness has gotten worse :( and I haven't been able to write, so I apologize in advance for this chapter and how bad it is and I express _BAD. _It is readable but not great (but my writing isn't great anyway, ha, ha). Anyway please excuse my writing skill, I'll try and do better in my next chapter, if I feel better.**

**And to new followers - thank you and welcome. Hope you enjoy.**

**And also, I hope you all have a wonderful day/night :) )**

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Chapter Four

When she comes to Elizabeth is laying on her back, she has no recollection of the day before apart from one single memory; the object Pawn from the game chess still glowing vividly in her mind. And of course him. Her eyelashes flutter as she rises, keeping her weight steady on one hand, though her arm seems unrecognisable weak compared to usual. In front of her she can perceive a ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains and land on a white pillow next to her head. She draws her hand through it and cuts the ray off before she brings her hand to rub her tender neck. She curses once a sudden pain ripples through the muscles in it. Pressing her fingers on the swollen bruise she releases to see a drop of blood on her finger. Finding it hard to swallow due to the coarse dryness in her mouth she tries relaxing, but finds her body growing perturbed once she does. Sitting back up she claps her hands to her stomach as it growls in hunger and a sickness feeling drowns her. She has only just remembered that she probably hasn't eaten for at least a day.

Springing from the bed she opens the door and peeks her head out to look about, there isn't any sign of danger or anyone in the house. Pulling the door completely open to feel a cool draft she steps out on to the landing and notices her clothing. Rapidly groping around at her body she feels her breasts and notices she hasn't got a bra on and that she is wearing clothes made for bed. A repugnant image appears in her thoughts and in addition an icy chill tickles her spine from the thought. With the sickness ever growing and the weakening in her limbs growing stronger, she manages to creep downstairs without being noticed and walk along the hallway in search of the kitchen.

On finding the kitchen her spirits liven up and carrying on the silence she persisted with prudence, her stomach viciously snarling with impatience as her hunger continues to fatten by each minuet. Rapidly shaking through the sense of fear and the bubbling acid she rummage for the hint of food like a ravenous cannibal her empty stomach barking like a wild dog. "Looking for something?" The shock of hearing another's voice in the silence causes Elizabeth's head to turn and crash into the fridge door, her nose cracks against the inside then sharp affliction shifts the blood within her nose. Her hands cover her face and a loud groan leaves her mouth coupled with warm blood dripping on to her palms. "Oops! Sorry, did I scare you?" The ignorable temptation to shoot an ice cold expression at him is overwhelming but she resists and wipes the blood away as much as possible. His hand pushes the fridge door shut with a blow.

He takes a step closer to her a horrid grin on his face, "That looks nasty!" He addresses the bloody leak and reaches out his hands to touch her face however she avoids contact with him and although he continues to smile does not please him. He raises his eyebrows in torment, "Now, now let daddy have a look." On act Elizabeth leans forward by loosing her balance and in one mighty push manages to vomit a mixture of phelm and acid that sets fire to her throat as she wretches her empty insides up only to cause it to spill over him and the floor. On the contrary, she feels rather happy than ill about vomiting on him and his clean floor the look of surprise could put her into stitches if she dared to laugh. She doesn't know what made her sick, whether it is the empty stomach (a likely theory) or the fact that he used "daddy" when labeling himself.

The displeasure on his face causes a smile to crack on Elizabeth's "Go get ready," he commands, "there is some business we need to attend to." Elizabeth turns to leave the kitchen like ordered and make her way back up the stairs when she hears his remark, "She's _dying_ to meet you," and in the same fashion he smiles slyly then turns into another room as Elizabeth crawls her way up the stairs trailing her feet behind her.

She washes with cold water and cleans her mouth out slipping into clothing already laid out on the bed she woke up on. The clothes fit her and suited her style, a plain dark grey shirt, skinny jeans, a belt and pink lace lingerie (all correctly sized but rather uncomfortable to wear). Despite Moriarty being a crazed psycho who in chance is possibly a warped man who took enjoyment in both murdering and afflicting pain in mental or physical ways, Elizabeth can not deny that the man has good taste in sense of smell and sense of style. Even a perfume bottle lay on the bed, a sweet, romantic smell which she sprayed upon her neck. After minuets of dressing and stepping into white trainers she brushes out the tangles within her thick hair with her fingers ignoring the brush that is in plain sight, then with a thumping heart walks back down the stairs to meet him in the room.

Upon her sight Jim rises from his seat and strolls over to where she stands his nose hairs twitching as the fragrance bounces off her neck and enters his nostrils. He grasps her arm and tugs ruthlessly to pull her closer to him, her body follows naturally at his command and meets his, her frame wedged against his body held together by a hand. Then gently his nose traces her neckline inhaling the scent she is wearing. With every sniff the tension grows between them, worry and disgust for Elizabeth, arousal for him. Now Elizabeth can feel something wet sliding over her skin and from the corner of her eyes she can see his mouth sucking at her flesh, his eyes closed with intention to taste or lick away the perfume like a lover.

His other hand slithers to her neck catching her cheek and leaving a red mark, as his fingers push on the back of her neck causing it to point inwards as his mouth remains on her. Elizabeths left hand is pushing on his shoulder while her other is tangled with his. Without warning his teeth clamp shut upon her skin, piercing her sharply before releasing her with a smirk, licking his lips of the remaining taste clean. "I really do like the taste of Chanel on a womans body," he apprised her taking another deep breath.

Due to the sharp intake of pain delivered to her by the quick bite of her skin, tears manage to escape Elizabeths eyes without her permission. His thumb wipes away the one sliding down her cheek which he brings to his lips to suck away. "Perhaps we should leave, I've left it long enough." He takes her wrist. "But don't worry, we can get back to this when we arrive back," he winks at her and pulls her behind him, Elizabeths free hand pressing on her neck.

"W -here are w-we goin-g?" She manages to speak up, angered rather than afraid. He raised his eyebrows and stops abruptly then turns to her and taps his nose before roughly dragging her outside into the mild sunshine and warm breeze. With a potent shove, he pushes Elizabeth into the passenger's seat of his car, locking the door behind her while making his way around to the driver's seat and starting the engine up.

Throughout the whole car journey Elizabeth pushed her body to her left to avoid him touching her as he already made an attempt to rub her thigh, but she managed to move it before he laid his hand down upon her. She did not quite recognise the neighbourhood that they first drove through, it was clean and empty unlike hers. Through the entire ride she looks out of the window and at the clouds that keep moving across the sky and in front of the sun the grey complexion reflecting the shine. It reminds her of something, but the memory has faded too much to remember.

The car pulls up beside what looks very much like an abandoned warehouse, then in instant two hands drag her out of the car roughly, his fingernails digging viciously into her shoulders. Elizabeth does nothing but march with him, her heart beginning to race, her palms sweating and her fingers pulling at her jeans. She doesn't know what to expect when she walks in to the building before her feet. It could be a place hiding all her greatest fears, or maybe just plain emptiness. She shakes the thoughts from her head letting her mind go completely blank as she steps inside the warehouse. The cold air inside seems to stick to her bare arms, she can see the dark hairs stand on edge and goosebumps begin to crawl up towards her shoulders, spreading like a rash.

She embraces the darkness in the dim lit hallway, being lead by a groping hand upon her neck, his thumbnail stabbing her flesh. As her eyes grow use to the blackness a bright light, brighter than the heavens burst into the tenebrosity room. It blinds her, pierces her pupils like daggers until she removes her hands that block out the light. She moves them and squints forward at a blurred figure a head of her. Rubbing away the remaining purblindness, she focuses on the now visible person seated metres away. The hand now leaves her neck and the sound of Moriarty strolling away echos in the empty place.

Elizabeth's attention does not leave the female that it seated in a worn chair, ropes fastened rigidly around her torso, cutting into her like claws on a wolf. It is not so much the position that the woman is currently in that makes Elizabeth mouth drop open, nor is the feelings she has for the woman, but mainly that she recognises her.

Elizabeths limbs go suddenly weak and she has a sudden feeling to cry out, but she turns her head to him and waits, just simply waits for instructions. "Are you ready for the game?" He asks with a raised eyebrow and a gruesome grin on his face. He fiddles with his sleeves before continuing, "I think you know what you have to do, don't we Bee?" He walks behind her, brushing his shoulder on her spine and making her shudder.

"No... ." She whispers under her breath, shaking her head, her pulse beginning to thump harder.

"What?" He asks in her ear.

"No. No, I won't!"

"Ooo! I think it's a little too late for that now?" Moriarty pulls an expression that looks like he is mocking pain as a red dot turns up on Elizabeths stomach. Her head bows to see it then shoots back up against as a uncomfortable lump grows instantly in her throat, her heart now trying to escape from her body. "Instructions!" He yells, the whole place seems to shake at the sound of his voice. "You have exactly one minuet to try to help her," her glances at the woman shaking in her chair. "You must save her before the timer runs out, or splat! dead, gone, poof!" His lips kiss Elizabeth's cheek. "Good luck, princess!" Then winking at her he leaves the room.

Elizabeth doesn't move, she can barely breathe as she looks into the eyes of the woman. Her emotions tangle with one another creating a knot within her chest as she just stares at the person. The woman is pleading with her eyes, her chin wobbling with sobs, her wrists bleeding from the ropes being tied too tight. Elizabeth can hear her sobs, hear her begging. But she does nothing but stand there and look at the woman.

Look into the watery eyes of her _mother_. Look into them and simply walk away...

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick... Tick..._

_Bang._

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**(Again, thanks for reading, bye for now! :) **


	5. NOTICE

Okay, okAY. What can I say? I am absolutely amazed with the follows for the this story, that people are still following this as I haven't updated this story in months. Well, it has inspired and also encouraged me to continue this fiction. I am currently writing chapter five, and I am re-planning this story (again!) to suit me, so everything will hopefully be rewritten for the better, but I will post chapter five and edit the other chapters afterward (not deleting, just editing). I'm going to keep it along the same storyline, but change certain things with it that'll hopefully make me feel happier with this, because despite me actually hating this story, I love it too X"D.

Again, thank you all so much for sticking with it, hopefully chapter five will be up sooner than later, but I really wanted to show this notice to you if anyone was wondering as I do get emails for new followers.

Thank you again, and see you soon!


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